


Only Living Twice

by manic_intent



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And he's fairly sure that everything Tiago does constitutes workplace sexual harassment, In which James continuously weighs a future in espionage against punching Tiago in the face, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-24
Updated: 2012-11-24
Packaged: 2017-11-19 09:58:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/572050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manic_intent/pseuds/manic_intent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James hadn't known what to expect when he finally managed to break into the Sujiatun prison camp and locate 001's cell, but he would have thought that some degree of gratitude would have figured into it at some point.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only Living Twice

**Author's Note:**

> For all my friends who somehow managed to ship 00S instead of 00Q. Haha. You know who you are. Actually this pairing didn't even strike me until I watched That Scene in all its huge blonde and hilarious glory at the cinema. "Oh, Mister Bond!"

I.

James hadn't known what to expect when he finally managed to break into the Sujiatun prison camp and locate 001's cell, but he would have thought that some degree of gratitude would have figured into it at some point.

He hadn't thought that 001 would eye him with amused condescension from where he was strung up against the filthy wall of his cell like a marionette, blood mottling with bruises in splotches from his wrists and rags, his nails mostly red ruins, his smile jagged from split lips and wrenched off gaps where teeth had been, his once blonde hair filthy and matted. 

"Are you even a 00 yet, boy?" 001 drawled, when James picked the lock and grit his teeth against the stench, padding in to the cage to slice the cords suspending 001's arms to the ceiling. One arm was crooked - broken - but the other was fine, and 001 only winced slightly when he was let down off the balls of his feet, taking an unsteady step. 

"Not yet, sir," James muttered behind gritted teeth. The jailbreak would go off within the next ten minutes, if Q-branch's gadget that James had attached to the security system mainframe worked, which meant that the prison was going to get hot really quickly. "Follow me."

"Give me a gun," 001 said briskly instead, and when James reluctantly handed over his spare Walther PPK 7.65mm, he made a _tsk_ sound even as he sighted down it with his good arm. "Don't you have anything better? A Smith  & Wesson Centennial, perhaps?"

"No sir." James could be patient. He would. After all, if he managed to pull off this mission, he'd make 00 rank at last. "This way." 

"Surely you have a better plan," 001, however, limped after him, his quick darting glance as they padded out along the walkway between the cells on the lowest level of solitary confinement sharp and alert. "Or are we starting to scrape the bottom of the barrel where recruitment is concerned?"

"I got this far, didn't I?" James snapped, despite himself, as he stepped over the bodies of the guards he had knocked out, under the cameras he had disabled. 

"Yes. Consider me surprised." 001 eyed the guards, then the cameras. "Still, either the Chinese are growing lax or they truly did not expect a one man assault on their best-kept secret." 

"Do you have any _better_ ideas, _sir_?"

"Oh no," 001 arched his eyebrows. "Carry on. This should be entertaining, if nothing else."

Resolving to find a way to make 001 suffer after the mission, somehow, James glanced out of the security door to the empty corridor, thinking over the guard rotations in his mind, and looked back to see 001 industriously peeling off his ruined shirt. At his stare, 001 rolled his eyes. "Make yourself useful, boy. That guard's about my size. Get his clothes off and help me into them. Or did you think that I'll make it out of the prison looking like this without comment?"

He had to make it to the second floor checkpoint within the next five minutes, James knew, but he found himself kneeling down to strip the guard of his uniform, and then helping 001 into it, careful not to brush up against any of the wounds, then finding some water and tissue from the guard room to clean off 001 as best as he could. It wasn't really going to pass muster under a close up, but it was better than before, especially when 001 grit his teeth and pulled heavy gloves over his bloodied hands.

"Now then, where next?" 001 said mildly, which made James check his watch with a sinking feeling. They were late to the checkpoint, which meant that when Q-branch's timed bypass took over and opened all the prison doors, they were in the wrong side of the building when the automatic lockdown took over, _naturally_ , and take the long way around, where they ran into a patrol of panicked guards rushing towards the growing riot. 

Still, a group of confused guards were no match for trained MI6 agents, and although James was nursing a grazed arm, they made it to the third checkpoint with no further incident, and then out through main administration to the laundry route as planned, where confused admin staff in the prison camp's outward cover as a hospital didn't bother to give two briskly walking guards a second glance. 

His car was still where he'd left it, a short walk away from the 'hospital' and around the block, and James settled into the driver's seat with relief, adrenaline still burning hot within him as he started up the car. "Our extraction is at Dalian."

"Long drive," 001 noted, glancing out of the window, "And it's _Da_ -lian."

James grit his teeth. Maybe arranging evac in the further airport to evade pursuit was a bad idea after all. It was going to be a wonder if they made it to the airport without James snapping and punching 001 in the face. "Yes, sir."

"What's your name, boy?"

"James. James Bond."

"James. Your technique's sloppy and your detail work on planning needs improvement," 001 drawled, ignoring the incredulous glance that James shot him.

"I got you out, didn't I?"

"We're not in the clear until I'm in London." 001 reminded him, then he smiled, crooked and lazy, like a large cat circling, not yet hungry enough to pounce, "You do have that singular stubbornness of purpose, though, along with the nerve and arrogance of youth, and, more importantly, a rather large amount of natural luck. I suppose you'll make a good 00 in time."

"Thank you sir," James noted, unsure whether he had just received an insult or a backhanded compliment, concentrating on traffic instead. "There are painkillers in the back seat and some scotch," he added, as an afterthought, by way of a peace offering. 

Maybe 001 was just rather annoyed that it had taken MI6 _this_ long to come for him, and that when they did, they hadn't even sent another 00. James could understand that, or try to. 001 had obviously suffered, and from the reconnaissance that James had undertaken to find 001 in the first place, he'd heard that whatever the Chinese had tried on 001, however creatively, he hadn't broken. That was something to be respected, at least. 

"Ah, I think we might get along very well after all." 001 twisted gingerly in his seat, grabbing for the pill bottle. "Call me Tiago."

1.0.

The private jet that She sent for them was nice, and the pup that She had asked to fetch him was still too young and green to hide his surprise and pleasure as they were shown to plush leather seats and asked by a pretty stewardess whether they wanted anything to drink. Tiago chose the Macallan that was on board, a twelve-year-old bottle, not bad, and watched the pup curiously follow suit with amusement.

He wondered if this was Her idea of penance - oh, he knew very well who had sold him out, even if he understood why, he'd been rather _naughty_ , even if he _had_ thought that he was helping Her with his little hobby. Maybe he'd been given a month to reflect on his sins, ameliorated afterwards by a nice ride home in a pretty plane with a handsome, rebellious and dangerous young thing that was exactly his favourite flavour of sin. 

It would be just like Her to pull something like this.

00 training would hone James' instinctive talent at mayhem and his natural streak of luck into something beautifully deadly, in time, but now the boy was just raw promise, lovely and unfinished in his cheap store-bought suit - probably from Marks & Spencer, judging from the cut - and in his thinly veiled tempers, his youthful conviction of invulnerability. Still, James had looked at him with grudging respect when he had helped Tiago dress his wounds, set his arm and change into a passable shirt and suit on their way to Dalian. It _was_ rather a pity that he was in no real shape or form now to play with James properly; the painkillers didn't quite numb out all the pain.

He did, however, flirt with James all the way home, just to keep his hand in, if nothing else, and although James scowled and snapped at him or outright ignored him, Tiago was very good at reading people, and he found himself regretting his broken arm and cracked ribs rather quickly. James had no experience with men, then, but was possibly curious enough to try - _lovely_. If he had been less battered, Tiago thought, a little regretfully, after his second glass of scotch, he wouldn't have been averse to fucking the gorgeous young thing against the hull of the plane, the floor, their seat, whichever, make the pup squeal his name and sob and break. 

Pity, pity. Such a waste. 

Still, Tiago had time on his side, and while passing James on the way out of the plane in Heathrow, he'd patted that nice, firm arse with his good hand, then smirked when James only stiffened and flushed.

It was good to be home.

II.

James had been somewhat disappointed when he hadn't, in fact, made 00 rank after extracting 001 from Sujiatun - something or other about the lack of subtlety and a high body count - but the new female M had implied heavily that 001 had recommended him for the rank, and she was taking it under advisement pending his future performance in missions.

So. Not a total loss, then.

James worked a few more Code Yellow and Orange missions, and wasn't surprised when he was informed that his next Code Red involved assisting a 00. Unranked field agents hardly ever worked alone, after all - the Sujiatun matter hadn't been an exception, just that the agent that had been assigned with him had to be extracted earlier to throw off the Chinese on their heels. Usually, being assigned to assist a 00 was considered an opportunity: it wasn't just a learning experience - after all, it was no secret at all that an agent could only make 00 rank only if they showed talent in the field _and_ became one of M's favourites. 

A good word from a 00 in the right place could advance a young agent's career very quickly, and by all reports 001 was still the new M's favourite by a comfortable margin, if only because of their long term association: 001 had previously been assigned to Hong Kong for a year to work with her as the transition approached. 

And so, therefore, despite his irritation upon realizing that the 00 he was assisting was 001, James still managed a, "Thank you for recommending me to M, sir," after a perfunctory greeting in the debrief room. 

001 was holding a manila folder delicately in his hands, and he'd cleaned up well, no hint of anything permanently damaged; when he grinned lazily at James, there was just an unbroken line of white teeth. His blonde hair was combed back, and he looked sleek in his suit, like a well-fed big cat. "Ah, so you're the help." 

James grit his teeth, but said nothing, just nodding curtly instead. He'd been hoping that he'd be assisting 004, who was taciturn, efficient and silent, or maybe even 006, who was friendly and always happy to teach (or preach). 001 had a reputation for brilliance and was a deadly shot - James had seen the latter part firsthand - but he was possibly one of the most annoying people whom James had ever had the dubious pleasure of meeting. 

"Firstly, we'll get rid of that... thing that you are wearing," 001 tutted, circling around him, looking him over with frank calculation. "Too little time to get something tailor made, but Savile Row should still have something off the rack for you that won't hurt my eyes."

James glanced down over himself, a little puzzled. "I fail to see the relevance of what I'm wearing with regards to the mission. Sir."

"Oh, to be young and blithely unfashionable again," 001 ignored him, padding out of the room and forcing James to jog to keep up. "Indulge me. We'll put it on the company card. Mummy may be a little annoyed at the extravagance, but I've always believed that if a job has to be done, it should be done in _style_."

James swallowed his irritation and unclenched his hands. The 00s all did have their little eccentricities - it probably came with coping with the high risk and responsibility of their jobs, and he supposed that 001's, so far, seemed fairly harmless. Still, he sat in a pointed silence while 001 commandeered a company car to Savile Row, even as 001 smirked at him, clearly amused. 

"How old are you, James?"

"How is that relevant? Sir."

"Oh _my_ , so _touchy_ ," 001 drawled, his eyebrows rising. "You should be proud of being young. You're living the best years of your life. Well?"

"Twenty-six."

"Bit young to make 00, aren't you?"

James fought his scowl. "I'm ready."

"Maybe you are." 001's grin was smug and intensely annoying. James had to curl his fingers together over his lap to prevent himself from giving in and punching him. "Maybe you're not."

"Didn't you recommend me to M?"

"I told her that you showed promise, certainly." As James mulled this over, frowning, 001 laughed. "Oh, don't sulk, James. There's more to being a 00 than just getting the job done. And it isn't for everyone. Why _do_ you want to make 00 status?"

Puzzled, James said, "Why not?"

"You burn all your bridges when you do," 001 pointed out, and he wasn't laughing now, looking out of the window instead. "You turn yourself into a gun. MI6 wants someone shot? _Pouf_. You do it. No questions asked. MI6 wants you to burn down a house with a family in it? _Pouf_. They're gone. You shut yourself inward, turn yourself into steel. You'll drink. Fuck. Do drugs, maybe. Anything to cope. Mandatory retirement comes at the ripe old age of forty-five - assuming you even live that long. None of us have. Why would you want to do that to yourself?"

"Why did you?" 

001 smiled, thin and sharp. "I was young. Like you. No family. No girl or little kiddies. So I thought, why not?"

"Why not?" James echoed, lifting his shoulder into a shrug. "I think that I could do more for MI6 with a 00's carte blanche than as a normal, restricted field agent." 

"Ah, ah," 001 raised a finger. "The first reason was good. Honest. The second one, tch."

"I wasn't lying," James shot back, stung.

"You didn't think that you were," 001 corrected, irritatingly cryptic, and he smiled lazily at James before shifting to stare out of the window, the conversation clearly over. 

Seething, James glared at his hands, unsettled by 001's cavalier lifestyle description of the highest attainable rank in MI6's field espionage division. He hadn't thought very much about what being a 00 would be like; James only knew that he enjoyed being on the job far more than downtime, and the more challenging and difficult that the mission was, the better. He liked field work. 

Maybe 001 was asking him this on purpose. It might go into his eventual report to M, after all - he might even have been asked by M to confront James over his motives. That made sense. James relaxed as he thought this over, exhaling. He'll play along with 001 - for now.

His new resolve was shaken a little after two hours, when 001 finally pronounced a charcoal gray suit and some cuffed shirts adequate, prompting painfully visible relief in the face of the shop attendant at Kilgour and an eyeroll from James. 001 had smiled, looked James over again with unconcealed avarice, terrorized the attendant into getting amendments made on the spot, and had paid with the 00s' black credit card.

Back in the car, on the way (finally!) to the air port, James picked at his collar, then at the cufflinks, until 001 said, idly, without looking at him, "Stop that."

"It's a little tight."

"It's fitted properly, you philistine. Not as well as it could be if it was bespoke, but eh, needs must," 001 waved a hand vaguely in James' general direction. "You look better. After the mission, maybe we could get something made that is more acceptable."

James grimaced. "No thank you." The shop attendant had more or less treated the both of them as though James was some sort of young boytoy, out to be dressed by a rich lover, and it had been thoroughly embarrassing for everyone involved, in his opinion.

"It's your armour. The clothes make the man," 001 drawled, "If you make 00, you'll be moving in higher circles than where you are now. You have to look like you belong anywhere. And besides, if you make friends with a tailor, you'll be surprised what a cunningly made suit could do for you. Conceal kevlar, or holsters and knives without showing a line, for example."

"Oh." James blinked - he hadn't thought that far. "I see."

"And...?"

"Thank you for the insight, sir," James drawled, as dryly as he could, and 001 turned away from the window, his lip curled into a smirk.

" _Oh_ , the little pup shows his teeth! Careful," 001 shifted close, trailing a teasing finger up the inseam of James' new pants, "I might like it."

James forced himself to keep calm and still. 001 had flirted outrageously with him through the entire flight back to London despite being obviously physically incapable of following through with any of his... suggestions, but had instantly switched off into a distant, neutral calm the moment they had touched down and met the rest of the extraction team. James hadn't exactly known what to think - it was obvious that 001 was a good actor and charming if he wanted to be, and before, he'd simply thought that the man was trying to annoy him.

Now, however, James was all too aware that he didn't want _this_ showing up in anyone's report, tempting as it might be. 001 was handsome and self-assured, and James was curious - though not exactly curious enough to sacrifice his career over it. "001, I'm here to assist you with the mission. If you're looking to fuck someone, I suggest you attend to that quickly so that we can make our flight."

001 grinned wickedly. "Worried that I might tell Mummy?"

"I've no intention of earning my way into a 00 rank by spreading my legs."

"Ah, the things that you don't know about the 00 rank," 001 said mockingly, though he shifted back to his side of the car. "I might tell her anyway."

"She'll know that you're lying."

"That she will," 001 acknowledged, if with a pout, though he picked up the manila folder from the seat to leaf through it, all the playful seductiveness abruptly gone, as though sucked out into a vacuum. James relaxed - he'd guessed well after all. This was a test. 

Probably.

2.0.

They were an hour into the flight to Istanbul when the pup finally stopped sulking and edged over to see what he was doing. That was a good sign, Tiago decided. Rampant curiosity was always a good trait for a 00.

"We'll be unofficially assisting Operation Dawn," Tiago explained, showing James the laptop screen - Q-branch had done _very_ well with this particular model. Sleek, powerful and small, it was years ahead of any of the existing commercial models. "I'm working around the nearly non-existent PKK security network."

The pup was smart, at least, though he clearly wasn't very tech-savvy, surprising for a young pup; he eyed the command prompt window with disinterest. "You're... hacking them?'

"It's my specialty. Sometimes I wouldn't even need to fire a gun to complete my missions. Clean. Subtle."

"Oh." The pup seemed disappointed - Tiago had to hide a grin. Ah, to be young and homicidal again.

"Still, there's not that much wired infrastructure where we're headed. I suspect that we'll still have to get our hands dirty. But it's still useful to do a little research on the ground situation. Peek at some diplomatic cables, for example. Listen in on radio chatter."

When James only looked a little blank, Tiago noted dryly, "What, did you think that I wouldn't prep? That I'll just run in, all guns blazing, with no plan? Haven't you assisted 00s before?"

"Never for the entire course of a mission," James admitted.

That was true - this _was_ a little unusual. MI6 was normally stingy with help, and besides, most if not all of the 00s preferred to work alone, anyway - it was partly why they'd wanted to make 00 in the first place, usually. Supporting field agents were normally slipped into a mission only at key points - they usually handled less explosive matters that didn't warrant 00 attention. More of Her penance, maybe? Tiago wasn't sure. 

He _was_ rather regretting the fit of self-indulgence that had pushed him to get James fitted with proper clothing. Resisting the urge to just ravish the pup in the shop when he had first seen James put on that trim gray suit had been rather difficult.

"Well, if you want carte blanche," Tiago gestured at his laptop screen, "This is what you earn. No more detailed briefs. Sometimes just a name and a location. Everyone has their methods - for example, I've heard that 003 is a little old-fashioned, cultivates contacts in hotspots and such. This is mine."

"You're the most successful 00 to date," James said, stating a fact, clearly no flattery intended, as he continued to read off the screen. "Your methods work."

"They do, don't they," Tiago was flattered anyway; James' unwitting proximity and the nice cut of the suit over his lovely long legs helped. "They're the future. As technology spreads out over the rest of the world, missions in advanced cities could become trivial. Orchestrate explosions remotely, perhaps, train accidents, more. Q-branch is evolving, didn't you hear? They aren't going to produce funny little gadgets any longer. There's a new arms race out there in the Great Game, fought over cyberspace, and MI6 has to keep its edge."

"You can't make sure that a job's done properly if it's been done remotely," James disagreed.

"And that's why we're flying into a particularly dreary part of the world," Tiago pointed out. "Never liked the desert belt. Nothing much to do other than work and ogle the help." He tried a lazy leer, but James didn't even bother looking at him, still studying the map. 

Actually, this could just be more punishment, Tiago mused, stifling a sigh. Maybe he'd read James wrongly after all. It was possible. Or maybe James' ambition was far more than the sum of his libido. Also possible. It would be just like Her to subtly torture Tiago all the way from the safety of London, and for an entire mission, at that. 

"That's a patrol route," James pointed, "They won't have line of sight to this tower. I can provide cover from there." 

So the pup had figured out the encrypted map and legend with just a glance. Tiago arched an eyebrow, a little impressed. "How good are you with a rifle?"

"Good enough." 

"Then I want you here instead," Tiago pointed at another tower. "And try not to shoot me by accident."

James rolled his eyes. "I'll try my best not to give in to the temptation, sir."

"Pity," Tiago drawled, trying another leer, and this time, James flushed a little, though he quickly looked away. Point, Tiago decided, his smirk growing lazy, though he sensed that he wouldn't be able to cash anything in until after the mission was well and truly over. Damn Her and Her games.

III.

All in all, the mission was a success, although it'd been rather close at times, and 001 had been in an exceedingly good mood after providing M with a preliminary debrief before boarding the plane in Istanbul. No private jets this time, but the first class suite was a pleasant novelty, and James was still checking through the considerable winelist when 001 broke into his suite and closed the door behind him.

"Your room's down the aisle, sir," James noted dryly, without looking up, even when 001 grinned wickedly at him and padded over to lean against the elegant side table. 

"I got bored."

"Watch a film."

"But I've been _good_ ," 001 whined, and James stiffened as 001 blithely climbed on to the wide reclining seat, on top of him. "I've already finished my report. This can be off the record."

"Sir-" James tensed, with a low gasp, as 001 pressed a thigh high between his legs, leaning down to kiss him, and God, James had kissed boys before, out of curiosity, but it hadn't been anything like _this_ , like he was being devoured, and he was frozen for a moment before he growled and bit. 001 reared back, with a yelp, only to laugh as James dragged him back down, full of exasperation and frustrated lusts and temper. 

They both had bitten and swelling lips by the time 001 mouthed down to his neck to bite, and James dug his hands into the lapels of 001's suit with a moan, dazed. 

"Let me introduce you to the mile high club, _querido_ ," 001 grinned up at him, his hands lifting James' shirt out of his pants.

"What makes you think that I'm new to it?"

" _Oh_ , Mister _Bond_ , so _naughty_ ," 001 said mockingly, even as he pressed the heel of his palm against the tent of James' arousal and made him buck for it and hiss, "What about this?"

"What about it?"

"You haven't had a man before, have you?"

"It's just sex," James shrugged, trying for insouciance, only for 001 to bury a chuckle against his neck and bite down, his shoulders shaking with mirth. 

"I love the young," 001 noted expansively, unbuttoning James' shirt and rubbing callused thumbs up over his nipples, causing another hiss, "So many presumptions to trample. So much innocence to deflower."

"Hardly," James rolled his eyes, only to have to bite down on a whimper as 001 latched on to a nipple with teeth and a rough lap of his tongue - _God_ \- nudging James' legs open even as he started to lick and suck, holding James' hips down firmly as he started to roll his hips lazily between them, all promise, the tailored fabric was getting annoying but James felt frozen, pinned, hands clenched on 001's shoulders.

001 took his time, as irritating as ever, working from one nipple to the other then down James' ribs, ticklish and _good_ , working down to his navel until James was biting off whimpers and tugging impatiently at 001's suit. "What do you want, James?" 001 asked, even as he grinned and rubbed his cheek against the restrained curve of James' cock, over his pants, and James moaned, earlier reservations about fucking 001 absolutely shattered.

"Suck me off."

"And what will you do for me in return, hm?" 

"I don't know," James said, distracted, breathless as 001 managed to unbutton James' pants with his mouth, of all things, and then catch the zip with his teeth and tug it down, fuck, that had to be one of the hottest things that James had ever _seen_ , "What do you want?"

"What do I want? Mm. I want to fuck you. Fill you up. Make you scream, beg, until you come on my cock," Tiago's voice had shifted into velvet, rich and intoxicatingly seductive, "But I think I should be patient. Take my time with you someplace nice, maybe on a bed that we wouldn't mind breaking, hm?"

"Yes," James gasped, as 001 tugged down the hem of his boxers to press the flat of his tongue against the swelling tip, "Jesus."

"Wrong name, _querido_ ," 001 told him cheerfully, but James' annoyed retort choked in his throat as 001 pulled his pants and underwear down further and took him into his mouth, confident as always and _fuck_ if he wasn't swallowing James all the way to the root with seemingly no particular effort at all. James snapped his head back against the seat, biting down hard on his own lip, tasting copper as he fought the urge to come instantly. 

001 slid up until only the tip was in his mouth, his eyes dancing with amusement, then he took James all the way back down again and _hummed_ , holding James down as he let out a sharp cry and tried to buck, digging his fingers into the armrests and whimpering as 001 began to suck, greedy and obscenely loud, breathing hard through his nose, groaning as though he was _enjoying_ every push that James tried to make further down his throat, _God-_

And of _course_ he swallowed, after, before sitting back and licking up the back of his palm like a cat. "Look at _you_ ," 001 purred, his hot gaze roaming up and down James' still shaking frame like he was trying to memorize every detail. "Such a lovely young thing." 

Breathless and still trying to slow his breathing, James did, however, manage a one finger salute, and 001 snorted, slinking up James' body to kiss him, ignoring James' squirm and growl at the bitter taste, then he froze as he felt hot fluid spurt thickly down over his belly, pooling down over the mess over his softening cock. 001 smiled lazily at him as he wiped his soiled palm over James' throat, lingering briefly over his jugular, then he leaned down to lap up the mess, all soft, kitten licks over sweaty, oversensitive skin until James was dazed and punch drunk from pleasure and pliant.

3.0.

Tiago never handled downtime very well. He had always bored quickly, hadn't ever seen the point of drowning himself in alcohol or other coping mechanisms, and after a day or so, usually ended up being bored enough to take a peek - just a peek - into secure foreign government networks. After a few days of this, sometimes things exploded over on the other side of the world.

This time, he was lying on his bed, staring at his laptop, trying to decide whether or not to sneak onto the CIA databases, just for fun, when he heard the door to his flat opening. Quietly, Tiago picked up the Smith & Wesson over on the side table, slipping off the bed, only to lower the gun when James sauntered into the room with all the lovely, self-assured arrogance of the young and beautiful.

"You're supposed to be off duty," James noted, with a glance at the laptop screen, as Tiago replaced the gun on the table and sank back down on the bed. 

"So are you." James was dressed in a rather horrific polo shirt, jeans and loafers, and Tiago sniffed as he turned back to his laptop. "Go away. You are hurting my eyes."

"I made 00," James ignored him, sitting down on the edge of the bed. 

"I heard. Congratulations, 007."

"Weren't you going to introduce me to a tailor?" James asked idly, and when Tiago glanced at him, he smiled and ran a hand with sleek confidence up over Tiago's bared ankle, curling his thumb over the calf. "And maybe afterwards we could test the... structural integrity of one of the suits over your bed. Sir."

"Hm." Tiago was definitely tempted, even as he eyed his laptop regretfully. It'd take weeks for anything to be tailor-made, but James _had_ looked gorgeous even in something off-the-rack.

Still, Tiago had parted ways with James over at MI6, and hadn't really thought very much about following through immediately with what he'd said on the plane. After all, he could tell from his debrief with M that She was fairly impressed with the pup's abilities, and a 00 rank had seemed imminent. James would have had no further reason to get involved with him. Unless- "Did She send you to keep an eye on me?"

"Who?"

"M."

"We're off duty," James pointed out, frowning, still so very deliciously naive about MI6 politics and Her very many devious ways, and Tiago grinned, even as he reached over to close his laptop. Point set and match to Her, perhaps. 

"Go sit in the living room and try not to touch anything. I'll get dressed."

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to find a photograph of young!Daniel Craig that didn't feature badstaches, but couldn't. Still, he must have been precious. :)


End file.
